


The White Swan

by kataclysm



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Gen, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:41:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24192985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kataclysm/pseuds/kataclysm
Summary: Cold nickel warmed under his fingertips as he turned over the token keychain repeatedly, the attached keys rattling against one another. Fidgeting calmed him.Come, Little Dove, that silky voice had cooed. A hand that wasn’t his guiding her by the small of her back.Frigid, salt-heavy air stung his nostrils as the voice replayed on a hellish loop inside his head. Contrary to the freezing temperatures of the Maine shoreline, Killian’s blood boiled. Fingers curling tightly around the coin-shaped pendant as its swan imprint seared against the skin of his palm.Swan, he thought miserably. Not dove.... With the Black Fairy defeated and more happy endings realized across Storybrooke, hundreds of inhabitants of other realms are roaming, uncatalogued and searching for the ends to their own stories. However, not all happy endings are made equal...
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones & Emma Swan, Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan, Emma Swan/Original Character(s), Evil Queen | Regina Mills & Emma Swan, Evil Queen | Regina Mills & Henry Mills, Evil Queen | Regina Mills & Snow White | Mary Margaret Blanchard, Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Original Character(s), Henry Mills & Emma Swan, Prince Charming | David Nolan & Emma Swan, Prince Charming | David Nolan & Snow White | Mary Margaret Blanchard & Emma Swan, Snow White | Mary Margaret Blanchard & Emma Swan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	The White Swan

“Henry!” Emma called as she grabbed the bulky, blue book from the bathroom counter. She hurried through the hall, taking her steps two at a time down to the stairwell landing.

A flustered Henry rifled through his backpack, propped up against the doorframe with one leg lifted to support the bag. “Mmm,” he mumbled absentmindedly, an acknowledgement that he at least heard her.

She didn’t wait for more. “Math book, kid. Think fast!”

Wide-eyed under a normally well-quaffed fringe (fixing his hair wasn’t in the cards for Henry on this frantic morning; he woke up late after yet another very vivid dream about Violet...), his head shot up in time to see the pages opening in accordion through the air. Snatching the book by a chunk of its pages and deftly stuffing it in his backpack all in one fluid motion, Henry barely uttered a quick “thanksmombye” before running out the door.

The corner of Emma’s mouth quirked upward as she sauntered down the steps to the laundry room. She had barely pulled her favorite white cashmere sweater from the washing machine to hang on the drying rack when heavy footsteps plodded down the stairs.

“Swan!” Killian’s voice called out, “Have you seen my—”

No sooner had he come into view through the kitchen, than black fabric soared toward him. He caught the waistcoat by the armhole with a nod toward Emma, slinging it around his frame and over his charcoal dress shirt. She knew what that hitch in his eyebrow meant— _you’re getting good at this._ And she was.

One day, Snow was there to watch the morning routine, eyes ricocheting back and forth to keep up with the pace. _You know, it’s like it’s only ever been you and the boys_ , she had praised her daughter. Emma had clenched her jaw to stop herself from beaming as she spread shmear on her bagel, all while Killian fussed with Henry’s uniform, adjusting his tie while he mumbled something about “bad form.”

Emma watched with a smirk as the fingers of Killian’s right hand went to work buttoning the _thirty thousand_ buttons on that damn vest of his. Meanwhile, he took a large bite of the apple he speared with the hook on the end of his left arm. “That will never not be weird to me,” she remarked as she meticulously adjusted the positioning of her sweater on the rack. _They say lay flat to dry for a_ reason _,_ she once told Henry as he teased her for spending an inordinate amount of time hanging laundry, _and sweaters ain’t cheap._

Killian furrowed his brow and frowned at the apple, affronted, as if _it_ had bitten _him_ , depositing the fruit on the countertop in indignation.

When Emma appeared swiftly in front of him, he didn’t bat an eye, choosing instead to level his glare at her as she batted his hand away from his stomach. “Not the apple. I don’t understand why you actively choose to torture yourself with all these buttons,” her fingers worked quickly down the waistcoat, securing each button into its respective eye. “Can’t we get you a vest with a zipper? Or a pullover?”

“Zip—a pullover?” Killian tested the words on his tongue, as if he were eating something bitter for the first time. He was not pleased. “ _Swan_ , exactly what kind of man do you take me for?”

She didn’t respond, picturing all of the vests and waistcoats she’d seen him wear throughout the years, each with an exorbitant amount of buttons and clasps. She simply fastened the bottom and final button before pressing her lips softly against his cheek, his stubble bristling against her chin.

A warmth bubbled in her stomach as she pulled away to see the radiance of her husband’s smile, his eyes twinkling, both eyebrows raised as he appraised her face. He really was beautiful, even with faintest trace of sleep in his eyes, the color of a salt-water pool framed by dark lashes and hints of even darker kohl. _Captain Guyliner_ , Regina frequently admonished. Emma didn’t mind—Killian knew himself and wore it with confidence.

“I got a call,” she pivoted, reaching for a banana from the fruit basket next to Killian’s neglected apple. “Apparently, the town boundaries have shifted again. We’ve got more people, most unaccounted.” Following the Final Battle—it had only been eleven days, mind you—, an influx of inhabitants from other realms of story had found themselves thrust into Storybrooke. Both the Mayor’s office and the Storybrooke Sheriff’s Department were taking charge of searching for and cataloguing the newcomers, and it left everyone feeling a bit... overwhelmed.

Killian merely grunted in response, catching Emma’s forearm in his hook as she attempted to take a bite of the banana she was beginning to peel. Tugging her body flush against him, he lowered his face to meet her lips, and she melted against him, just for a moment.

Their kiss was soft and brief, and when she pulled away, she gave him a small smile.

“Come on, David’s waiting.”

Rolling his eyes, Killian nodded. “Aye, love. No rest for the wicked,” his upturn in inflection signifying a faux perkiness.

_Or for the Savior_ , Emma thought darkly. Her eyes met Killian’s, and she became fully aware that he was thinking the same thing.

* * *

Regina reflexively ground her teeth as Leroy bellowed across the lawn in front of the Mayor’s Office.

“STRANGERS! THEY’RE HERE!”

The nose of a borrowed school bus was barely visible through the landscaping, but Leroy’s call left little doubt as to the arrival of newcomers. His voice set Regina’s nerves on edge, and her fingernails dug small divets into the skin of her palm around her pen.

“If only I had disposed of that _dwarf_ in the Enchanted Forest,” she hissed in her pang of annoyance. She wouldn’t act on it, of course, but if she could no longer bite, the very least she could do was bark.

Snow rolled her eyes. “Regina, we all have our own ways of coping with crisis. Leroy’s method just happens to be slightly... louder.” Straightening her spine, Snow adopted the posture of a royal, replacing her furrowed brow with a soft, familiar smile as foreign faces began to file onto the lawn, approaching the table single-file. A brisk breeze nipped her nose, causing her to inhale sharply. She glanced down at the rustling papers on her clipboard and adjusted her pen so that it ran completely parallel to the edge, smoothing her fingers over the top information sheet.

She loved mornings, and with the dwindling tension of the Final Battle still clinging to the air and a whole host of new Storybrooke inhabitants attempting to find some order, she could think of no better way to spend the waking hours than soothing those agitated nerves before the elementary school day began. Even with Regina in a particularly cranky mood.

“Come on, Snow. Don’t tell me it wouldn’t be a more peaceful existence without his grating voice,” Regina goaded, berry-painted lips pressed into a smirk. “It wouldn’t have to be violent. Like how I handled that insipid mer—"

“Welcome to Storybrooke!” Snow chirped at the family that had approached the table, partially to mask Regina’s empty threats.

Regina’s breath escaped in a small chuckle as she waved the two men behind the first family to her side of the table.

It took an hour to catalogue that large of a shuttle, but the hectic nature of the work caused the time to fly. Sometime, in the midst of the organized chaos, Emma and Killian had arrived, posting on the street to direct the newcomers to their appropriate destinations—to find food, clothing, shelter, and the like. Soon, David Nolan stood alongside his wife, rubbing small circles on her lower back and wishing her a good day as they swapped shifts.

During what seemed an unnecessarily long goodbye kiss for just a normal Tuesday morning, even by the Charmings’ standards, Regina breathed in deeply through her nose, mentally counting to five to control the nausea bubbling in her gut. Jaw clenching and eyelashes fluttering in silent rage as Snow pressed a teasing kiss to her cheek on her way out.

“Be nice.”

She didn’t think to question if Snow meant for that sentiment to be about David or the townspeople, and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from retorting. Choosing instead to peruse the two pages of new names on her clipboard. She thought about her dinner with Henry later that night—he’d enjoy looking through the lists and trying to assign the appropriate stories to the respective people.

Part of their roles as “heroes” involved helping unite the new townsfolk in their happy endings. Happy beginnings as Emma liked to say... unironically even. Regina didn’t really mind the work. It kept her busy and productive and didn’t leave much room for her to dwell on her lack of ending... or beginning... or.... whatever.

She didn’t even notice that in the pause between the waves of people, a figure wandered onto the lawn.

David’s voice, cheery as ever, broke the silence. “Hi there, what can we do for you?”

The gentleman approached Regina’s side of the table, and she glanced up to a steely, but not unfriendly, gaze. “I missed the bus in my area, so I figured I’d walk here. Enjoy the morning.” His voice was soft and strong, not terribly unlike one from her past. Regina felt her fingers go numb and ears grow warm.

“Sheriff Nolan will take your information,” she said coolly, shifting her attention to David. “I need to step inside for a moment to make a call, David. I’ll return shortly.”

David nodded once in affirmation, and for once, she was grateful for David’s overtly empathetic nature. He seemed to understand. The voice, the tone... it was uncanny. Pulling her coat tightly around her waist, she turned on her heel to leave. She was surprised to hear the man’s voice again, an affected accent that gnawed and tugged at her heart. She couldn’t breathe, and she wanted to go inside. “Pardon me, Miss. I was rather hopeful my affiliation would be with you.”

Regina halted, looking over her shoulder. Squaring her glare at the stranger who was most definitely not her late beloved, she responded, any warmth in her voice replaced with the most frigid ice. “Well, sir, as Mayor of Storybrooke, I am most certain that you will have other opportunities.” _Unlikely._ “Now, if you will excuse me, I must step inside. Good day.”

Regina couldn’t wait for a response. As soon as she crossed the threshold, she closed the door behind her, falling back on the wood in full-bodied relief. Her fingers were trembling, and she took several shaky breaths to settle her nerves.

She rarely allowed herself to think about Robin Hood. He was gone—fully gone—and though her other half might have had a second chance with another version of him that paled in comparison to her own, the real Robin, she knew her chances had run out.

* * *

Emma watched from the road as Regina’s figure stiffened in response to the man at the table. When the Mayor retreated into her office building, Emma shot her a quick text to make sure everything was normal.

The ensuing text was both snippy and a lie— _Fine. I’ve been at this all morning, unlike yourself. I just needed a quick break._ —, but Emma let it go.

Surveying the street, empty aside from David’s truck and Emma’s bug, she stifled a yawn, eyeing the last person to census for the hour as he rounded the corner toward Killian. As Killian directed the man on his way, she strode toward her father, who was hunched over his clipboard at the table.

“What was that all about?”

David glanced up at her shortly before returning his focus to the papers below. “What?” His mumble was half-hearted at best—he’d really been taking to the task of finding workplaces for each of the new residents. Her mother was organized, that much was for sure, but her father valued structure. Something about his days living on the farm caused him to see every person as playing a special part in the whole of the community. He fought for everyone to have their own role.

Emma eyed the annotations he was scribbling on the census sheet. “Regina. Is she—”

Before she could finish, Killian joined them at the table, remarking off-hand, “Is it just me, or did that fellow sound exactly like—”

“Oh,” David finally responded, squaring to Emma and Killian. “That.”

Emma’s eyes widened as she looked between the two men. “What? What is going on?”

“Robin,” David nodded, placing his fists on his hips. “It kind of freaked her out, I think.”

Emma smiled tightly and didn’t wait for any confirmation before entering the office building, walking quickly up to the Mayor’s office. She let herself into the wide, almost sterile room. Though she’d been in the office so many times before, the stark black and white woods painted on the wallpaper never truly settled in her vision.

Regina looked up at her blankly from the paperwork in which she was entrenched. “What can I do for you, Sheriff Swan?” her lips set in a hard line.

“Why don’t you and I grab a drink?” Emma offered.

Placing her pen down on the desk, Regina laced her fingers together, throwing her hair out of her face in one single well-practiced shake of her head. “I think you have me confused for your... pirate, Mrs. Swan,” she didn’t hide the disdain in her voice. Narrowing her eyes, “I don’t day drink.” Her face relaxed, and she picked up her pen once more, looking back down at the work on her desk. “Perhaps you shouldn’t either while on the job.”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Emma said warmly, a soft smile playing on her lips. “Tonight? After your dinner with Henry? We could go to Aesop’s?”

Exhaling in resignation, Regina responded quietly, eyes trained on the black lines of the page she was seeing but not comprehending. “Fine. Will your mother be joining?”

Emma chuckled, pulling at the lapel of her red leather jacket. “If you’re in the mood for her instigating more bar games with Vikings.” Even from across the room, she could see the smile playing at Regina’s lips.

After a beat, Regina lifted her eyes to Emma. “Drinks and a show? See you both there at nine. I _could_ do with some entertainment.”


End file.
